Transcription
It starts with something small: a shift in the air, a sound you're not sure you really heard. You think nothing of it at first. But then the world tilts. Just little things aren't where you left them. The light outside looks off. Familiar places feel foreign. And in the back of your mind, a quiet voice whispers: something is different now.
You try to ignore it, try to go about your day like everything is normal. But deep down you know this moment, right now, is slipping away. And the terrifying part? You'll never be able to get it back. It's happening whether you're ready or not. Somewhere, a clock is ticking down, but you can't see it. You don't know how much time you have left; maybe it's years, maybe it's minutes. But the second you're in right now, it's already gone.
And here's the part no one tells you: there is no warning. One day you'll step outside and everything will seem the same, but it won't be. A door will close that will never open again. A voice you love will speak its last words. A chance you assume would always be there will vanish like it was never real to begin with. Most people won't notice until it's too late. But you, you feel it already, don't you? That eerie sense that something is coming, that life is about to shift in a way you won't understand until it's over.
So what will you do? Will you keep pretending you have time? Or will you wake up right now and start living before the world changes around you and you don't recognize it anymore?